


Can't Take That Away From Me

by StrictlyFromCorn (orphan_account)



Category: Fred Astaire/Ginger Rogers Movies, Shall We Dance (1937)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-10 20:37:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1164281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/StrictlyFromCorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>WARNING: This story is gonna be really sad and really emotional. Peter and Linda are relaxing on the couch when they hear a loud noise and find four intruders in their house. And it's clear that their intent isn't friendly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Take That Away From Me

**Author's Note:**

> I got the idea for this on the school bus early in the morning, and I don't know what possessed me to write it. Oh, well. I wrote this some time ago, and I know you're probably gonna kill me for the feels involved in this.

_Our romance won't end on a sorrowful note_

_Though, by tomorrow you're gone_

_The song is ended, but as the songwriter wrote,_

_The melody lingers on..._

* * *

"Pete." The drowsy voice of Linda Keene called for her husband of five months. The couple was sprawled on the loveseat that they had received as a present from Jeffrey Baird a few months ago as a wedding present, and both were feeling equally sleepy, despite the fact that it was only nine o'clock. The radio was sitting on a nearby table, but it wasn't close enough for either of them to reach, so it had stayed on while the couple dozed.

"Hm... yeah?" Peter was woken from his half-asleep state by Linda's shaking. His eyelids fluttered open and he blinked a few times, trying to remember what he was doing before he fell asleep. He was still dressed in his everyday clothes, the only difference being that he had taken his coat off and undone his necktie, and he had no desire to get up and go to his own bed like a sensible person would.

"Your song. It's on the radio." Linda replied, this time with a smile on her face. She had been so happy that her husband had found success as a singer, even though people still knew him as Petrov, the great Russian ballet star. The song that he had sung to her that night on the ferry back to Manhattan was now a #1 hit on _Your Hit Parade_.

"Oh." Peter pushed himself into a sitting position, running a hand through his hair as a matter of habit. "I don't think anyone knows the special meaning behind it except you and me." He commented out loud. The two of them had been called "the most romantic couple in decades" in gossip columns and rightfully so, for their romance was almost out of a fairytale.

Sometimes, though, Linda couldn't help but feel sorry for Arthur Miller. His efforts to stop her from getting married to Jim certainly succeeded, but then she went off and married Peter. Oh, well. At least he seemed sporting about it.

"No, and I'm happy to keep it that way." Linda let out a content sigh as she put her extended her arm across Peter's chest, wishing they could stay like that forever. The world and all its troubles didn't worry her at that moment - all that mattered was the two of them.

_Crash._

"What the-" Peter sat upright instantly, breaking the romantic position that the two of them were in as his eyes looked around for the source of the sudden, sharp noise. There was nothing out of the ordinary in their living room, but he could tell that something was very, very wrong.

_Bang!_

An earth-shatteringly loud noise followed not two seconds later, which prompted the young couple to investigate, forgetting all about their fatigue. Neither of them were armed, or even remotely prepared for what they saw next.

Four men, all armed with golf clubs and knives, had entered by means of smashing their window. Before Peter even had time to react to the whole situation, the intruders rushed at the two of them with their weapons.

* * *

_They may take you from me,_

_I'll miss your fond caress_

_But though they take you from me,_

_I'll still possess..._

* * *

As a matter of pure instinct, Linda screamed as loud as she could. It was quite obvious that these intruders didn't have a friendly intent. Her cry for help was abruptly cut off as she was tackled to the ground by one of the men. Her opponent was a lot heavier and stronger than her, and she felt the uncomfortable sensation of his warm breath against her neck. Not about to be outdone, Linda thrashed back as hard as she could, hoping to get him off of her, but to no avail.

Peter's first thought was to help his wife, but he, too, was tackled by two of the intruders, and forced against the wall. He let out a strangled cry, as he felt an intense rush of adrenaline starting to course through him. Why, or how they had gotten in wasn't of any concern to him at that moment. His only priority was keeping Linda and himself alive.

The next thing he felt was a hard punch to his jaw. It was a good shot, to say the least, and it made Peter clench both his fists in pain. It was no use trying to fight back since both of his arms were pinned down by another man and on top of that, he was badly outnumbered. His attempts to shield himself from the blows that his attacker rained down upon his face and upper body were futile. All he could do was squeeze his eyes shut.

On the floor, Linda was still locked in a struggle with the man that had a strangehold on each of her wrists. There was a wild desire within her to get free, but it seemed like the harder she kicked back, the tighter his grip got. She felt starting to come ragged gasps as she desperately attempted to writhe out of her attacker's reach. "P-ete!" Linda managed to choke out her husband's name.

Peter heard her cry, although he could do nothing to help. The fact that he was completely helpless in the situation gave rise to a feeling of intense panic that was threatening to overwhelm him. He was breathing in more air than he needed, and his struggle against his attackers was as intense as he could muster, although it seemed to be doing no good at all.

"Hey, get me that club!" One of the robbers yelled. "He can't dance if we break his legs!" At that statement, Peter's eyes flew open. How did they know he was a dancer? And most importantly - was all of that intentional? He had heard of break-ins where the victims were unrelated to the attackers, but that had to be planned. The dancing star had no time to continue that thought process, because the next thing he felt was an agonizing blow to his left leg.

Two other blows followed in quick succession, and Peter gritted his teeth in pain. To his credit, he remained standing, despite the fact that every fiber in his being wanted him to just pass out and forget all the pain. _Gotta protect Linda. Gotta protect her..._ The foggy thought was the only thing that registered in his mind besides another strike to his leg.

By some miracle, Linda had managed to struggle free from her opponent's grasp. Her normally calm demeanor was gone, and in its place was a woman who just wanted to _survive._ She had never thought that anything of this sort would happen to them - one read about these incidents in the newspapers and commented "how terrible!" amongst their friends and more or less forgot about them. But here she was, in the middle of the nightmare.

The robber grabbed Linda by the leg as she attempted to pull herself into a sitting position, and her first instinct prevailed as she smacked him as hard as she could over the head. Her attack seemed to have worked, since his grip loosened, and she managed to stand up. Her gaze fell upon the kitchen knife that rested on the countertop, and there wasn't the least bit of hesitation in the dancer as she picked it up.

* * *

_The way you wear your hat,_

_The way you sip your tea,_

_The memory of all that,_

_Oh, no, they can't take that away from me_

* * *

By the ninth or so blow to his legs, Peter's will to remain standing had all but evaporated, and he ungracefully sank onto the hardwood floor. He was pretty sure that some bone or the other had been broken, judging by the amount of pain that he felt. But still, he fought to keep himself from sinking into unconciousness, stubbornly resisting the tempting black wave that was on the verge of overtaking him.

One of the blows landed right on his ribs, leading him to cry out in pain and make a feeble attempt to block further attacks by covering his ribs with his hands. Instead, Peter was rewarded with a strike to his left hand, with sudden and violent force. There was a sickening crunching noise when the golf club made contact with his hand, which was followed by unbearable pain. He was sure that meant more broken bones.

The attacks stopped momentarily, giving Peter a chance to try hauling himself to his feet. The adrenaline and sheer willpower let him make an attempt at standing up, which was semi-successful. He could see that his assailants had turned away from him for an unknown reason, but before the dancer managed to completely get back on his feet, one of the robbers turned his attention to him.

Peter's first reaction was to swing a quick right hook, which he did. He didn't even conciously think about it - it was just a natural impulse. It got the intruder right on the cheek, but that only attracted the attention of the rest of them. One of the robbers acted quickly - faster than the dancer, and punched him straight in the nose. The impact sent him reeling backwards, and he lost his balance again.

With Peter incapacitated, their attention returned to Linda. Her eyes were wide, and she was just like a deer caught in headlights. She clutched the knife tightly in her left hand, and she slowly started backing away from the group of intruders. "D-d-don't..." She stammered, hoping against all hope that they would take the hint and leave her alone. Part of Linda's thoughts wandered to Peter, but she forced herself to keep her mind on the current situation, knowing that she would lose what little composure she had left at the thought of her husband being hurt.

One of the robbers advanced towards her, his eyes gleaming with a primitive, animalistic desire. He extended his hands - and at that exact same moment, Linda gasped as she touched the wall and found herself cornered against it. He took one more step, and in that instant, she stopped thinking and started acting on instinct. The dancer tightened her grip around the kitchen knife and wildly thrust it into the darkness in front of her. She didn't know - or didn't care, if she could have killed the man. All Linda wanted was to be safe.

It was a split-second reaction; there was no time for anyone else to think about what they were going to do next. She continued stabbing, quickly and blindly, and very faintly, she felt hot, sticky tears coming from her eyes. Peter and Linda had been so happy, so peaceful just ten minutes ago - and here they were, in a life-or-death situation. _Why_ couldn't they be happy? _Why_ couldn't they be just like any other happily married couple? _Why_?

Suddenly, she stopped her wild flailing and stabbing. Another force was holding onto the knife. Before Linda knew it, the rest of the robbers had surrounded her, and the knife was wrenched out of her grip. Her only means of self-defense was gone.

* * *

_The way your smile just beams,_

_The way you sing off-key_

_The way you haunt my dreams_

_No, no, they can't take that away from me_

* * *

She drew in a sharp breath, anticipating what was coming next. Her husband was there - injured and bleeding, and here she was, encircled by four robbers. And she didn't know what they wanted. Not about to give up, Linda made an attempt to snatch back the knife from the man who was holding it, but it was in vain. Then, in a swift movement, he jabbed the weapon in her direction.

She was suddenly aware of a hot, searing pain in her left side. The knife blade pierced her delicate skin, and all the times she had burned herself accidentally were nothing in comparison to the pain she felt then. Linda's attacker twisted the knife as he pulled it out, intensifying the pain. She wanted to scream, but her throat tightened and no sound came out at all.

From his place on the ground, Peter caught a glimpse of the shiny tip of the metal blade, and at once, his heart started racing. The pain from his wounds was suddenly dulled as he realized that what he had feared worst had come true. Hobbling to his feet, he grabbed at the nearby table for support, doing his absolute best to ignore the excruciating pain in his body.

* * *

_We may never, never meet again_

_On the bumpy road to love,_

_But I'll always, always, keep the memory of..._

_The way you hold your knife,_

* * *

To her immense credit, Linda remained standing, despite the stab wound. Both her hands were clutched to her side, and there was the hot, unmistakable feeling of blood pooling at the wound. The robber thrusted the knife at her again, and it made contact. This time, she sank to the ground with the pain, and a small, breathless gasp left her as he pulled out the knife again.

" _Linda!_ " Peter screeched as he practically threw himself in her direction. "Linda- Linda..." He repeated her name over and over again, his feet slipping and sliding on the polished wooden floor in his attempt to get close to her. "Oh, my God, Linda..." The dancer whispered breathlessly. Peter's limbs were all completely stiff, and his hazel eyes were wide with terror and helplessness.

"Pete?" Her hands were still pressed against the stab wounds, but despite her pain, Linda managed to look up from her place on the ground to see her husband. Peter was a wreck - he looked so distressed, so full of terror, and his tears were starting to fall on the ground, along with blood from his nose.

"Linda-" He let out a strangled cry, choked back with the tears that were starting to overwhelm him. Two of the robbers had him by each arm, holding him back. There was his wife, with the life bleeding out of her, and he could do nothing to help her. The feeling couldn't be put into words.

* * *

_The way we danced till three_

_The way you've changed my life,_

_No, no, they can't take that away from me_

_No... they can't take that away from me..._

* * *

Peter wanted nothing else in the world except for her to stay alive. They had been married only for five short months, and everyone else seemed to be so happy. Why them? The all too brief times they had spent together came to his mind. The way he was spellbound when he saw her picture for the first time. And then, their first real encounter, where he had pretended to be Russian, just to mess with her. Peter would never be able to do all that again. He would never be able to see her facial expressions of exasperation, or to hear her voice.

Their first dance together came to his mind next. Linda had started off with, "what am I supposed to do?", and finished with the biggest, prettiest smile he had ever seen on any girl, as they looked at each other, sitting atop the piano. Even then, Peter was messing with her, purposely tormenting her by doing Russian ballet, until they launched into a full-out tap dance number. He knew he never would be able to dance with her again.

What stood out most in his mind was that day they spent in Central Park, dodging reporters and rollerskating around. He loved dancing with her so much, and even though he relentlessly messed with her by refusing to marry her at first, it was only a cover for his real affection for her.

Peter would never be able to kiss her again, to feel her soft lips pressed against his, or to run his fingers through her beautiful blonde hair. He knew that in art, people always said they'd live with "memories", but it was a lot harder than he had imagined. Nothing could compensate for the real presence of that special person.

"I love you." Linda's voice was reduced to a hoarse whisper. Peter could see the life dying in her blue eyes - those same eyes that he had fallen so madly in love with. The pain from his physical wounds didn't compare to the weight that was making his heart so heavy. He made a feeble attempt at breaking free from the intruders, but it was no use.

"I love you- don't go." He felt the tears flowing freely and in that moment, nothing felt like it was ever going to be worth it any more. He didn't want to dance without her. He didn't want to do anything without her. He didn't want to live without her. After all, _she_ had taught _him_ how to live happily.

Having heard those words, Linda's eyes fluttered shut, and the life left her body.

Peter shut his eyes, willing himself to think that it was some sort of a sick joke. What he wouldn't have given to just let it have been a prank. He started sobbing like a baby, and in his grief and pain, the dancer didn't hear what one of the killers said.

"Arthur Miller better make this well worth our time."


End file.
